


All Of Them Witches

by grimeysociety



Series: DLHalloweenWeek2018 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BAMF Darcy, Drabble, Gen, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:45:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: Darcy’s grandmother liked to tell her of the times before them, when the Lewis women had to hide in shacks in the woods and pick mushrooms in the dark.





	All Of Them Witches

**Author's Note:**

> DLHalloween2018 Day 1: The Witch. I'm not sure how much of this challenge I'll actually be participating in, but this idea was one of those ones I've had for a while. I love witches. I've been obsessed with them in one form or another most of my life. They're addictive and fascinating, and Darcy as a witch to me was always going to be morally ambiguous. The title of this fic comes from All of Them Witches by J.R. Hanslet in Rosemary's Baby. I posted a corresponding moodboard to this fic on my Tumblr [here](https://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/post/179361648558/dlhalloween2018-day-1-the-witch-fic-all). Hope you enjoy this drabble. <3

Darcy was part of a two-witch coven once.

It was her grandmother and herself, after her mom died when she was eleven. It was the worst time of Darcy’s life.

Darcy’s grandmother liked to tell her of the times before them, when the Lewis women had to hide in shacks in the woods and pick mushrooms in the dark.

Neighbors constantly threatened them, threw rocks, nailed dead rats to their door – you know, charming stuff like that.

Darcy’s great-great grandmother Delia looked just like her apparently. Lewis women all looked alike. The chances of being different were so slim, Darcy would shrug a shoulder whenever Delia’s appearance was mentioned until one day Darcy’s grandmother unearthed a Victorian photograph of Delia, in her high-collared black gown with a smirk on her face and then it clicked.

Delia was Darcy and Darcy  _was_  Delia. The cuckoo dreams and déjà vu was nothing unusual. Her grandmother even rolled her eyes when Darcy asked about it all.

“Well, what do you expect? You’re clairvoyant.”

She had little patience for Darcy most days, especially after Darcy’s mom passed away.

Cancer at 38. Who knew?

Clearly, the cancer was not meant to be seen by anyone looking to the cards, the stars, whatever.  

Darcy’s Delia dreams became a respite from the modern world. At least her memories of another woman’s time was an escape.

These things had already happened, and the more Darcy dreamed, the more she felt in touch with her powers, and what she was capable of.

A coven could be one witch, too.

Delia lost everything, it turned out. The whole village took apart her shack one night, dragging her out by the hair and ripping her clothes off.

Something about the Devil. Village mobs were always screaming about the Devil, and Delia rolled her eyes, her hands tied behind her back as she was forced to her knees and stripped bare.

“She kills babes in their mothers, and dances naked with the Devil!” one woman yelled, pointing at Delia, the crowd circling them jeering.

“Aye, and I curse every mortal who touches me. All Lewis women do!” Delia retorted, and her accuser reeled back, paler than ever under the moonlight.

Delia struggled, but managed to lift herself up from the ground, her eyes watching the crowd watch her, smelling their fear.

“You think you can kill me? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

She wished she would hover for once. That’d really drive the point home, but Delia’s dark, wild eyes were often enough to make the crowd afraid to touch her again, and anxious to leave the woods, at least until they could blame her again for some bad harvest or other village misfortune.

Delia met a young man sometime in between then and the next time the village showed up to kill her. She was carrying his baby at the time, and he had a gun.

The village never came back, and eventually the coven grew again.

Darcy knew her Lewis coven was smaller than ever now. Just her grandmother and two cousins in Boston (who pretended they weren’t witches at all, but still posed as them on Instagram every Halloween), but she was happy.

She got a black cat, and it made Darcy’s grandmother roll her eyes, but she smiled just the same.


End file.
